


Years Long Gone (and still you're the same)

by LeapAngstily



Series: December Footie Fanfic Giveaway [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: (fairly near future but still), Derby Della Madonnina, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Nostalgia level over 9000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2718614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaká and Andriy meet up in Milan to watch the Derby. Time has changed many things, but their feelings for each other still remain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Years Long Gone (and still you're the same)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my [December Footie Fanfic Giveaway](http://montosmadman.tumblr.com/post/104190423597). Come drop me a prompt?

The airplane touches down at Malpensa and Kaká immediately feels the distinctive sense of belonging, not diminished even by the long flight or the jet lag – no matter how many times he leaves, Milan will always be where his heart rests.  
  
He only has his carryon bag with him – just enough for a weekend trip, before he is needed back in Orlando – so he walks through the terminal gates without a glance to the baggage claim.  
  
Andriy is waiting for him on the other side of the gates, hands in his jacket pockets and hat pulled down to almost cover his eyes – a failed attempt to avoid the few paparazzi that have caught a whiff of Kaká’s arrival in advance. He is studying a poster on the wall, not noticing Kaká before he walks over to him.  
  
“Andriy, good to see you,” Kaká meets him with a wide smile and a bear hug, because it has been months since they have last seen each other, and he suddenly realizes he has missed Andriy more than he could ever imagine.  
  
Andriy’s embrace is warm and comfortable, just like Kaká remembers from all those times when they were still playing together. Andriy always hugs like he means it, and it has always made Kaká feel a little bit special, even though he knows it is the same for everyone.  
  
“Flight was alright?” Andriy asks him when they part, pulling Kaká’s bag away from him before he can protest, flinging it over his shoulder easily, “You wanna go home right away or should we stop on the way to grab something to eat?”  
  
 _Home._  From Andriy’s lips the word makes Kaká feel even warmer.  
  
“Let’s go home. We’re having dinner with Galliani and Berlusconi later anyways.”  
  
Kaká follows Andriy out through the airport doors, falling in step with him easily, as if nothing had changed between them since their time in Milan.  
  
Nothing  _has_  changed, as far as Kaká is concerned – Andriy is older, he is older, they have both grown in the past five years spent apart, changed, matured, and yet they are still the same where it really matters.  
  
“I went to see the squad earlier today,” Andriy tells him as he starts the engine, flashing a small smile to Kaká as they drive out of the parking lot, “They’re going to be fine, Pippo’s taking good care of them.”  
  
“That’s good,” Kaká replies, his tone a bit more subdued than he intended, “I wanted to meet them too, but the schedule was too tight. I guess I’ll just have to see them at the stadium tomorrow.”  
  
They are staying in Kaká’s apartment in central Milan – the one he never dared to put up for sale, because that would mean he would have no place to come back to.  _They_  would have no place to come back to.  
  
The first thing Kaká does when he enters the apartment is to kick off his shoes and curl up on the bed, the jet lag finally catching up on him.  
  
“Come here,” he tells Andriy with a lazy smile, gesturing for him to come to the bed, “Take a nap with me.”  
  
“I need to take a shower before the dinner. And so do you,” Andriy warns him gently, but he walks over anyways, leaning down to caress Kaká’s hair carefully.  
  
“We’ve got time – just half an hour, please, Andriy,” Kaká scoots to the side, creating just enough space for Andriy to lay down next to him on top of the covers.  
  
“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I?” Andriy asks with a chuckle as he settles down next to Kaká, throwing an arm around his waist, “If we’re late, you’re taking the blame.”  
  
“Whatever you say,” Kaká mumbles as he snuggles closer to Andriy’s warmth, his face pressed into the crook of his neck, and he is fast asleep before he can hear Andriy’s reply.  
  
  
  
They arrive at the restaurant thirty-five minutes late, Andriy’s hair still damp from his quick shower and Kaká’s outfit mismatched because he just grabbed the first clothes he could find from his bag. Fortunately Kaká is good at handling their old bosses.  
  
  
  
Derbies are always important matches, no matter what club you play for, but Kaká is convinced the  _Derby Della Madonnina_  is still the most magical of them all. When the sold-out San Siro is booming with chants from both sides and the bleachers are swarming in red and black and blue, there is no way anyone could say they would rather be somewhere else.  
  
They meet the squad – Kaká’s old teammates and new faces all mixing together, smiles tight with anticipation but still welcoming, happy to have Kaká and Andriy there to support them – and Kaká feels almost remorseful that he cannot be there on the pitch anymore.  
  
Pippo gives him a knowing look when he sees them out to the hallway. He hugs both of them one more time, Andriy first and then Kaká, and promises they will show them a good match.  
  
Andriy takes a hold of Kaká’s hand as they make their way back to the VIP stands, entwining their fingers gently, the long sleeves of their jackets not quite long enough to hide their hands from the people around them.  
  
“I know,” Andriy tells Kaká just when he opens his mouth to tell him how weird it is, to be in the San Siro as a guest – as an  _outsider_  – “I know, Ricky. But our time’s over now, there’s nothing else we can do but to put our faith in them. It’s their team now.”  
  
“It’s our team too,” Kaká argues softly, and Andriy tightens his hold on his hand just a bit.  
  
“Yes, it is. But it’s theirs as well.”  
  
He does not let go of Kaká’s hand even when they reach the stands, even though there are cameras all around them. Kaká tries to stay as close to Andriy as possible without raising suspicions, angling his body carefully to hide their hands, trying to make it seem like their closeness is only because of the lack of space between the seat rows.  
  
Their seats are next to Paolo and his sons, right behind Galliani and Barbara. It is the Derby, so everyone who matters is present – even Berlusconi appears just before the kickoff – and many of them come greet Kaká and Andriy, visibly pleased to have them back.  
  
Andriy has to let go of Kaká’s hand reluctantly so that they can return the offered handshakes. He keeps his hands to himself afterwards, and Kaká needs to remind himself that there is no reason to feel disappointed.  
  
“Do you ever miss it?” he asks Andriy when the first half is maybe halfway through, leaning closer to him, speaking right into his ear to make himself heard over the roar of the fans, “When it was us out there?”  
  
“Every day,” Andriy answers without missing a beat, meeting Kaká’s eyes squarely. Despite his wistful tone, his eyes are full of warmth – it is the warmth Andriy has always reserved just for Kaká, what makes them special, “But I wouldn’t want to go back to that. I want to enjoy what I have now. Right here.”  
  
He brushes his hand against Kaká’s side pointedly, and the touch sends shivers down Kaká’s spine.  
  
“Even though it’s only for one weekend?”  
  
“All the more reason to make the best of it.”  
  
They realize Milan has scored only because suddenly the roar around them intensifies to deafening levels and the audience rises to their feet.  
  
Kaká uses the chance to slip his hand into Andriy’s again, the contact a solid reminder that even if the world changes around them, some things will always stay the same.  
  
  
  
They go out with their old teammates that night, and it is fun and nostalgic at the same time.  
  
But the best part is going home together afterwards, just the two of them – to the place where nothing has changed, where Andriy still knows every curve and angle of Kaká’s body, where Kaká knows exactly where to touch even with his eyes closed, where their lips fit together like two pieces of a complicated puzzle.  
  
 _Home_  is where the rest of the world ceases to exist for that one perfect, impossible moment.


End file.
